Memory 1: Freedom Singing
by sakura1243
Summary: "I met a boy a few years back. He wasn't just any boy, like the ones you see walking down the sidewalk and going out of their way to step on the poor worms that surfaced and got themselves stuck after a hard rain. No, he was special. Different." US/UK AU


Memory 1

Freedom Singing

One-shot

A/N: Hello, lovelies! Thank you for taking the time to read my story, it originally was written for a school competition. Little do they know it's actually a guy/guy fanfiction for an anime. . . xD My dirty little secret. By the way, it is written in a 'Stream of conciousness' style so it does indeed have run-on sentences and contains some grammatical errors. IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THAT. Thank you 83. Check out the sequel on my profile.

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I met a boy a few years back. He wasn't just any boy, like the ones you see walking down the sidewalk and going out of their way to step on the poor worms that surfaced and got themselves stuck after a hard rain. No, he was special. Different.

He was also beautiful. Eyes like the sky, free and blue and big. His hair was the exact color of wheat, silky and shined bright gold in the sun. He had this smile, it made you feel like all your dreams could, and would, come true. His teeth were whiter than the clouds that reflected in his sky eyes and they gleamed while he laughed, which was a lot. He was always smiling.

I remember the day we met, like it had happened just yesterday.

I was laying on a towel in the front yard, in ripped jean shorts trying to tan away the paleness that had always inhabited my skin during the fall and winter when I locked myself away from the cold and the wet that took over our small town. (Not that I had ever been especially dark, maybe reaching a golden-brown by the end of summer that quickly went away after the outside became so unappealing to me.)

But he did stop. Stopped and turned and looked right at me. I had already been watching him walk by the little houses on my street as soon as he came into view. He had looked so intent on avoiding every crack in the sidewalk that it kind of caught me off guard when he glanced up and met my gaze. He smiled at me, those blue eyes crinkling a bit at the corners underneath his glasses as he did so. I remember how my breath hitched a bit, coming to a full stop when he paused by the little iron gate that creaked so loudly when my father opened it every evening after work . He didn't do much for a couple of stretched out seconds, hands shoved deep in his pockets, but when I raised myself up onto my elbows (I was trying to ignore the fact that our front lawn was more of a rock garden than anything and I had a handful of them beneath my arms and would walk away from this with pink and bruised skin) he gave an awkward wave followed by a "Hey there. I've just moved in a couple houses away."

I sat up fully at this, grimacing and rubbing the expected sore flesh, and glanced down the row of houses. There was in fact a U-Haul truck parked on the driveway house after next, a middle-aged couple methodically carrying or wheeling in boxes of all sorts of size and color to the blue, blue house. I turned back to the boy. "I'm Alfred, by the way." He threw the introduction out when we made eye contact again. I was momentarily distracted by his smile, almost disturbing in its bright white glory.

"Nice to meet you. . . Alfred. I'm –"

"Alfred! You can socialize after these boxes are in the house!" Alfred turned back to me, his grin now more sheepish than nice-new-neighbor (though still more beautiful than is natural).

"Sorry. Maybe we can talk after I help out?" I agreed and watched him turn and run, graceful even with long and gangly legs and too-large feet in flimsy sandals, back to his blue, blue house. As soon as he reached the driveway and his mom thrust a large box, one that I could tell I would've dropped just by looking at it, into his arms I lay back down and tried to shift into a position where the rocks would show me mercy. I studied the oak tree in the neighbor's yard for a few moments before closing my eyes and welcoming the warm pink sunlight shining on my eyelids.

"Hey! Alfred!" My voice echoed down the hallway as I closed the door behind me, hinges squeaking out a high pitched melody.

"Yeah! Just chill for a moment, I'll be right there." I shuffled awkwardly in the entrance, trying to wipe the dirt and wet grass from my bare feet so Alfred's mom wouldn't come after me with the shotgun hanging above the fireplace while I slept for tracking in filth across her oh-so beloved floor and rugs. It's been three years since Alfred moved in two houses down and, for whatever reason, he insisted upon celebrating. So, here I stand on his and my 'filth towel' (Alfred's mom, after observing the tracks of mud through her living room like she was hunting deer, declared that we were banned from laying foot in her house unless we were cleaner than an unused hospital room and threw that towel by the door for us to use) waiting for hurried footsteps and occasional clattering of dishes followed by a muttered curse to stop.

By the time that they finally had, I was propped up against the wall and picking at a hangnail that'd been bothering me since forever. I looked up from the red and annoyed skin, screaming and burning on my thumb, just in time to see Alfred appear at the end of the hallway. He grinned at me, of course, and gestured in an I'm sure what he thought was a grand way toward the room behind him.

I merely raised an eyebrow (or as Alfred liked to call them "fuzzy caterpillars", much to my own displeasure) and followed him through the living room, still fingering that hangnail, to the big and white and always-smelling-of-cake-and-cookies kitchen. I glanced around but all I could see out of ordinary were a ring of keys carefully laid out on the table to form a perfect circle, looking kind of like an abstract sun. I eyed some (was it German chocolate?) cake sitting pretty on a fancy stand in the corner by the window, sunlight hitting it like some natural spotlight before turning back to Alfred, still grinning like he had gone and won the lottery, and shrugged.

"I don't get it."

I don't think he was super happy about this statement, though I don't really understand what he was expecting after making me wait for fifteen hours only to come back here and find that he had some keys strewn out like Leonardo da Vinci and a cake that I couldn't eat until after I was stuffed with steak and potatoes or some other food our mothers thought we needed. Alfred glided, I'm still jealous that he can be so tall and gangly and make it seem like he's some kind of dancer, over to the table and gestured quite enthusiastically toward the display.

"Dad gave me the keys to the car for today." Good Lord. Does the man wish death upon every civilian in this town? Alfred drove like he was chasing the horizon and the answer to life was just waiting for him when he got there.

"Alfred. You're fifteen. You can't drive yet." This made him frown, edges pulling down so far I thought they'd fall off his face. He threw his arms across my shoulders and tugged me to his side.

"Yeah, but I'm the hero. I can do anything!" With that Alfred's face split into another grin and for a moment I was worried that he actually believed that he could do anything. An image flashed through my mind of him laughing while he jumped off a building. 'Watch me! I can fly!' I shuddered and shoved the visions into my mental trash can.

"Whatever. Where are we going?"

Turned out that Alfred wanted to go to 'Bro Rock' as he had so artfully dubbed. It was actually just a ledge that stuck out twenty or thirty feet from a cliff line about ten miles from town. It had the perfect view, being no less than two hundred feet above ground. Alfred led me over to the far edge and plopped down creating a mini explosion of dirt and dust like he was some bomb or meteor that had struck out in the middle of nowhere. I sat a little more carefully next to him and began swinging my feet against the rough ledge wall, watching little stones and clumps of dirt fall to their death. It was silent for a moment, and I remember thinking about how much I would go for a cup of tea all full of honey and golden-brown kind of like Alfred's hair except a couple shades darker and not as smooth a color because Alfred used L'Oreal and I know this because whenever I spent the night I had to take a shower and even if I wasn't OCD about hygiene sometimes I went grocery shopping with Alfred's mom and she always asked me to get the shampoo.

"Hey, Alfred." He glanced over eyes all blue and shiny and reflecting the almost-setting sun. I realized how young his eyes were. How innocent, like he's never seen the horrors of the world. Which is silly since I know how much he loved war movies and had a whole section of his bookcase full of them and we spent many nights sitting on bean bags with popcorn and candy and soda and watched movie after movie on WWII (that was his favorite war, if there is such a thing).

"Yeah?" I blinked, coming back from reminiscing a certain time when Alfred had wanted to act out a battle scene we had just watched and ended up breaking my arm in two places. It took me a moment to remember what I was going to ask in the first place.

"What were you doing in the kitchen that took so long?" He stared at me a moment (I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up at the intensity of the gaze) before turning to look at the pinking sunset.

"Don't you love the sky? I feel so free just looking at it. I wish I could fly. Sometimes I think I can." It was my turn to stare.

"Alfred? Are you ok? You're scaring me a little bit." He laughed at this, but it wasn't his normal nasally laugh, the one that made me start laughing it was so ridiculous. No, this laugh was high-pitched and seemed just wrong somehow and made my arms rupture in goosebumps. "Alfred, you idiot. Stop laughing like that." I spluttered over the words but he still did as I said and quieted. I stood up and dusted the seat of my pants off before looking down to Alfred. "Take me home. It's getting cold." I didn't lie. There was a chill settling in the air, the warmth seeping away with the sun as it dropped behind the horizon and stained the sky like Trix Yogurt. I began to head toward the truck when I was suddenly jerked back and bumped into a hard chest. "Hey!" I cried, but a pressure bit into my wrist and I winced. I glanced down to my arm wrapped in a scarred hand, smooth and golden skin marred in white and pink lines like the one I gave him with a pocketknife three months ago because we thought it would be fun to have a 'sword fight' and I tripped over a rock and his hand was there and—

"Would you ever leave me?" I was startled by the sudden sound of his voice, so boyish and so calm. It seemed almost normal, him squeezing my wrist (he had always given me scrapes and bruises with his almost superhuman strength, intentional or not) past the point of no return and gazing at me with such a fierceness I could feel my legs tremble, with his voice because it hadn't changed in the three years I'd known him except maybe deepening just a little but you'd never notice unless he talked your head off every day of the year.

"Of course not." I found myself saying this, because it was Alfred and he was my best friend and brother and I loved him as such and I couldn't say I would leave him because I wouldn't, not for millions of dollars or for all the tea in the world or because the Pope or Queen of England ordered me to. He was still staring at me with that intensity I'd never seen before but his eyes seemed slightly lighter, kind of glowing from inside and I admit that I was almost scared of him.

"Do you trust me?" I studied him, hesitantly, because it seemed like he wasn't quite in the right mind and he had this desperation tinged in his voice and I was confused because I'd never seen him like this. I fixed my gaze on his eyes, his sky eyes, and I could see fear and hope and freedom singing in those eyes and he was suddenly Alfred three years ago walking down the street and avoiding cracks in the sidewalk and stopping in front of my house and introducing himself and smiling and smiling and smiling and he was Alfred and, yes, I trusted him with more than my life because he would always do what was best for me and for him and we would always have each other, no matter what.

"Of course." He grinned and I felt any inhibitions float away and follow the sun behind the horizon and I grinned too. He suddenly started walking me backwards towards where we were sitting and we were still smiling at each other like we shared some secret and I could feel the edge beneath my heels, but it was Alfred and when I said I trusted him I meant it so when I felt myself falling I kept smiling.

That's where I am now. Falling, falling, falling. I can see Alfred jump. Smiling, smiling, smiling. He's bigger and heavier, so it's not too long before we can link hands.

"Can you fly?" I find myself calling above the wind.

"I can do anything."

"We'll be together?"

"Forever and alwa—"

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A/N: Yeah. Tragic ending. Sorry.

Go suck a popsicle or something. . .

. . . Anyways. . . I love those who read my stories! I also love those who review! (And don't forget about the

sequel!)

CIAO : +

~Sakura


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